


Innocence

by Rooscha



Series: Fumbling Through & Making Do [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Explicit Sex, Honeymoon, M/M, Making Love, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7689274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rooscha/pseuds/Rooscha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once in his life, Drift wants Ratchet to make love to him like he was a virgin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocence

"Do you think that you could make love to me like I was a virgin?" Drift's low timber practically echoed through their living quarters. Up until that question, Ratchet had been lounging on the couch enjoying some rare peace with a novel.

At his mate's question, Ratchet looked up to gauge his body language, looking for any clue to his mood. Drift was holding himself stiffly, looking resolutely away from the medic, hands busy with an energon cube. Ratchet sat up slightly on the couch.

"What brought this on?" The question had him on edge. What was going on in that pretty helm? Drift seemed like everything was fine, but he also had a disturbing habit of letting his emotions and frustrations pile on until he exploded. Quite the opposite of how Ratchet preferred to express himself, but everyone had their quirks.

"I just...I want that experience. Tailgate was practically gushing at Swerve's about how amazing it was to lose his seals to Cyclonus, and I never had that." The white mech sighed deeply, taking a sip of his cube and glanced at his mate on the couch. Ratchet, to borrow a human phrase, looked like a deer in the headlights. He was still clutching his novel, but he was keyed in on his mate.

"You want me to install seals on you?" Ratchet parroted back, his voice having gone up half a register. Drift smiled a little at his mate's discomfort with the idea.

"What? No. I was very happy to lose those, thanks very much. I just meant that I never got the experience he did. Making love instead of fragging."

Ratchet looked hurt, "You don't think I make love to you?"

Hoping to head off a raging Ratchet, the bigger mecha spread his hands in a placating manner and waited for his mate to stop reacting and start thinking.

"We do make love, frequently. But it's not... it's not always romantic. We're both grown mechs. We know what we like. But Ratch, I spent so many vorn doing things for other mecha that sometimes I forget that it's supposed to be an emotional connection too. I think that's why I'm so jealous of Tailgate. He got the visceral experience." Drift met the medic's optics over the back of the couch. For the moment, he was very happy to have a physical barrier between the two of them. He wasn't scared of Ratchet, but the space was welcome. It let him express his emotions a little better than if he was face to face.

"How do you want to rectify this situation, Drifter?" Ratchet turned off the novel, rolling to his knees and lounging against the back of the couch, looking over the back of it towards his lover.

Drift was quiet for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. If there was one thing Ratchet had learned about his mate over the vorns, it was that the other mecha needed time to think. If pushed, he would shut down emotionally and leave the room. It was much easier to give him some time than it was to run after him.

"We have shore leave coming up on Galapus Six. I'd like to rent a room. No, not a room. I wast the honeymoon suite. And I want rose petals and candles. The whole nine yards. I want you in control, guiding me through the interface like I've never been there before," he paused to vent, taking another mouthful of energon and avoiding Ratchet's gaze again. "This is so stupid. I'm a grown aft mech. I don't need this."

"Need it? Probably not. But I am more than happy to romance you, if you want it. Pack well for the trip. I'll make sure it's perfection. I lost my seals to a mentor at the university, and it was perfect. Emotional, gentle and perfect for me. I'll do my best to give you what you didn't have the opportunity to experience." Ratchet nodded and turned back to his novel, settling down to enjoy the rest of his off-shift, and sneakily giving Drift the excuse he needed to leave and get some space.

When the door whooshed close behind his mate, Ratchet activate the net and began making reservations and calls for his mate. Drift may have lost his seals in the gutter, but it was never too late for a redo.

* * *

 

"Woah, Ratch! This hotel is really nice. Too nice. Am I polished enough to be here?" Drift asked shyly, his grip tightening on the medic's arm. Despite being the second in command of the ship, Drift usually portrayed himself as the submissive mate in public. It was slagging cute.

"You're just fine. Your finish is just going to be ruined. C'mon, our room is ready and waiting." Ratchet tugged Drift towards gilded elevator banks, gliding them over imported stone tiles under their pedes.

"The check in desk is over there," Drift pointed to a coal black organic with pink eye stalks manning the front desk. "We should go there first, right?"

"Don't worry, love. I received confirmation that everything should be all ready for us. No need to check in. We'll go straight to the room and lock ourselves in. I want you to focus on being a virgin. Forget everything you know," the elevator doors dinged, and the couple were the only two inside as Ratchet pressed the button for the penthouse and stood for the authorization scan. "You have no idea what is about to happen. Oh, you know that tab A goes into slot B, but other than that, you're not sure. All you know is that your mate is about his wicked way with your frame."

Drift shivered, fluffing his plating and almost moaned. Ratchet had truly pulled out all the stops for him this time. Before he could think of a coherent response, the elevator glided to a full stop on the penthouse floor.

The same type of organic that manned the front desk met them in the entryway of the suite. It was about chest high to Ratchet and had a very slight build.

"Good afternoon, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet and mate. Welcome to the penthouse suite, and please do not hesitate to ask for me if I am needed. My designation is Sambicu, and I am your personal butler for the duration of your stay. I understand that this visit is to celebrate your physical union for the first time. Given this information, I will be reachable via comm link if anything is needed. Thank you for choosing the Gretti Hotel for your stay." And the lithe organic bowed and gracefully exited the suite via the elevators they had just come up.

"Wow. Physical Union? That's the best he could do?" Drift deadpanned, dropping Ratchet's arm to begin exploring their new suite.

"To be fair, the Unitech people are known for their brevity. That was practically chatty. And they're good people. Subjugated a fair amount, but they've always managed to take back their planets. Thus far." Ratchet followed Drift into the main living space of the suite, much more comfortable with the opulence than his mate. Instead of paying attention to the decor, he spent his time watching his mate's reactions.

The swordsmecha rested his Great Sword against the back of the couch, where it was centrally located and easily accessible. Then he spent a few moments exploring the living room, touching the tables, pulling open cabinets and humming thoughtfully at the selection of high and low grades within.

He then moved to the grand double doors to the berthroom, pulling them open with a flourish. An astonished vent left his mate and Ratchet smiled.

The berth was enormous, a mech of Optimus' size could have enjoyed three or four mecha comfortably upon its surface. The remote next to the berth was programmed to heat and cool the surface depending on the needs of the occupants. But the true show stopper of this room was the view. Panoramic windows showed the sweeping pink landscape, majestic flora and fauna of an organic world both similar and different from Earth. And above the berth, another set of cantilevered windows that would expose the distant star or the large moon, depending on the cycle.

Drift's throat was exposed as he looked at the ceiling, and Ratchet was once again taken by how elegant his mate was. Previous stints as a Decepticon and a guttersmech had done nothing to wear away his innate grace. They were a fabulous match - he, the grumpy and outspoken CMO, and he, the unsure second in command.

"Drift, come with me, please. I want to introduce you to your first pleasures." Ratchet held out a hand for his mate, letting his posture relax. It was time to show Drift what he had to give.

"Please, love. I want to be shown what it's like," Drift laughed when he saw Ratchet's face; apparently that was taking it a bit too far. "I'll tone it down a little."

Ratchet's hand was warm against his own, the mechanisms in his hands were working to steady his grip. His hands were the best on Cybertron, and here he was, letting Drift hold them. With that trust in mind, Drift allowed his love to pull him onto the decking outside the penthouse, venting in fresh clean air and watching the waning sun. Ratchet tugged gently, bringing Drift's attention to the happily bubbling hot tub on the porch.

"In the pool, c'mon, gently and slowly. It's very slick." Ratchet said, as he stepped into the bubbling solvent, helping his mate into the liquid with him.

"Thank you, good sir. You are a gentlemech and a scholar."

The two settled into the solvent amicably, with Ratchet pulling Drift's back to his chest. Drift threw his helm back, allowing his finials to lightly scrape against the medic's chevron. Ratchet's shiver was his reward.

"I want you to relax, sweetspark. Think of the heat seeping into your joints, your processor floating after a really good recharge. No stress. No worries. Just warmth and relaxation." As the medic spoke, his hands wandered the expanse of pristine white plating beneath his hands. He started with small strokes down his arms, letting the backs of his fingers caress the sensitive panels of his midsection.

Drift stayed as neutral as possible, staying still and allowing his optics to fall offline. Usually, he would have been dirty talking his mate, or already teasing Ratchet's spike out with his glossa. Or stuffing his fingers in some orifice. But he was actively clearing his mind, taking in deep steadying breaths and utilizing all of his training to surrender his whole spark and frame to his mate. The one he trusted more than anyone else.

He relaxed and allowed his sensors to be at full capacity. And just soaked in the feeling.

His mate's strong, confident servos tracing his sides and arms.

The heat of the solvent, bubbles popping across the surface of his armor.

The sounds of the city below them - the sounds of life, health and happiness.

So when Ratchet's hand skimmed ever so lightly against his cod piece, he jumped and flared his armor slightly. Just as soon as the touch had registered, it was gone. Back to his arms, dipping down to the tops of thighs innocently.

Ratchet hummed against his audial, a soothing noise he would have bestowed upon a youngling patient. A sound of safety and security.

Drift relaxed back into the red and white plating, allowing his own fingers to spread under the fluid and gently grasp the medic's hips beneath his own. Just lightly holding the mecha he loved - knowing that he would the anchor soon enough. It was a trial to not stroke the hot codpiece beneath his fingers.

Once again, brilliant red hands skimmed his valve panel and then trailed up to tap ever so lightly on his codpiece. Teasing. Gentle. No demand in his actions.

"You're so beautiful. Such a pretty mechling to have in my possession, to show off and have my newsparks. I am the luckiest mecha to have you. To be able to lay you out and pleasure you. I want to chain you to my berth," Hot lips traced and nipped at his finials, deft fingers dipping lightly into the seams between his thighs, teasing the nodes just under the surface.

Ratchet continued, "I want to chain you to my berth, pretty. And then in the morning I want to chain you to my desk, so you're always waiting for me. I'd stuff a vibrator in your valve and override the panel. Make you keep it up there - always hot and wanting. Begging for my spike over and over," a long lick up the side of his audial made Drift cry out, back arching and thighs pressing together. "And then when you're too loud, you'll get a gag. But worry not, lover. I will make sure to be tapped into your comm link. Listening to you beg as I perform surgery. And then when I'm on break, I'd take you from behind against the wall. I'd let you scream out loud, lover. I want my staff to know who the dominant mecha is."

The white mecha's venting was heating up, heavy pants blowing over the medic's plating with gusto. A small keen escaped his vocalizer without his permission. The love he felt for the CMO overwhelmed him for a moment, his keen trailing off into static.

"Open for me, sweetspark. I want to see what you've been hiding from me, huh? I want that thick spike in my hand right now!" Ratchet fell into a commanding tone with ease, his palm waiting under the bubbles to catch his spike. "I know it's frightening, but I promise to be gentle. Trust in me, love."

Drift whined again, pumping his hips. His panel slid aside, letting his spike release into the solvent and Ratchet's waiting hand. The medic wasted no time sliding his hand from root to tip, testing the hardness with his fingertips. Once his initial inspection was over, he fell into a soft rhythm, squeezing the base and the tip as he made his circuit.

At Drift's growl of pleasure, his mate spoke once more, "It's okay, you're just fine. I've got you. If you need to overload soon, that's just fine. The new sensations can be overwhelming. Over time you will learn to control your urges, but tonight I don't want you to hold back."

With the longer than usual work up, the swordsmecha was embarrassingly close to the edge already. The clever medic had already read the signs of an impending overload. Drift shook his helm from side to side, unable to resist licking the medic's sensitive chevron when it ended up in front of him. Ratchet's own growl of pleasure and lifting of his hips induced a small smile from the white mecha.

With a last squeeze of his base, Drift onlined his optics and cried out his pleasure to the moon overhead, basking in the beauty of the moment. Transfluid shot out of his spike with enough pressure to breach the solvent line, light purple fluid coating his own chest plating.

"Good mech. Now relax, have some energon. You'll need your strength for what I'm about to do to you." Ratchet pressed a cube of highly refined solar to his lover's lipplates, lightly stroking his throat tubing to encourage him to swallow. Drift sighed happily, drinking from his lover's hand.

Ratchet splashed a little solvent onto his chest, rubbing away the flaking transfluid and washing off his own hand under the fluid. Drift chuckled, relaxing against the warm mecha below him, basking in the love and pride radiating off his partner.

"What about you?" Drift asked, shyly lifting a hand and sliding it over Ratchet's codpiece knowingly. The other mecha had to be hard as stone after that little show.

"I am about to empty my transfluid tank into your valve. Don't worry about me." And with that, Ratchet pulled Drift to stand, and grabbed a warm cloth off the stand just inside the suite, rubbing both of them until they were dry and shiny.

Together they walked to the berth, but Drift hovered at the edge, unwilling to clamber onto its surface without explicit instructions. The medic took a few moments to adjust the heating of the berth and allowed the ceiling to retract so that moonlight glowed softy across the lovers.

Drift let himself be swept in a sweet kiss, entwining their glossa with a small sigh. Ratchet was so talented with his glossa, sweeping lightly across his pressure sensors, slowly mimicking the thrust of hips. Drift keened once more, his valve dripping wet beneath his panel.

"For your first time, it's best for you to be on top. You can control the depth of penetration and the pace. I'll help you, but I'd feel better if you had more control than if I rutted you." Ratchet kissed him once more before settling on his back on the berth.

Drift followed, resting on his knees beside the smaller but heavier mecha. Ratchet smiled and gently pulled Drift to straddle his thighs, allowing his codpiece to rest in front Drift.

"Do you want to see my spike? I think you'll come to love it, want it." The medic's voice dropped an octave, growly and serious. Drift nodded, focused on the red panel that held the medic's spike. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Ratchet let his spike pressurize, stroking the red and white length once he was fully erect. Then he took Drift's hand and placed it on his spike. The medic used his own servo to move both of their hands on his spike, optics locked onto Drift's own.

Drift's vents were coming in quick pants, and he was positive that his valve was leaking lubricants on his mate's thighs. Ratchet, beneath him, didn't seem to mind.

"Look how far I'm going to buried inside of you," The CMO held his spike against the plating of Drift's belly, showing him just how long and thick his spike really was. Drift groaned, his valve clenching on nothing. "Oh, don't worry, sweet. I'm going to make sure that you're ready for it. It won't hurt at all. It'll feel so good, Drifter."

Ratchet's clever fingers left his spike, allowing Drift to take over the pumping of his spike. Red fingers gently asked Drift to retract his panel, ghosting his fingers over the manual release. Drift slowly allowed his valve panel to open, whining with no small amount of real embarrassment as his valve lubricant leaked and puddled on Ratchet's pristine plating.

"You're just fine. It's natural. This lubricant is a good thing, Drifter. It will help my spike pleasure you. It'll make sure nothing snags or feels uncomfortable," his valve lips were parted by bold fingers, making the other mecha jump slightly at the invasive feeling. "Shh, you're just fine. I love you, and you're doing so well. Your valve is in perfect condition, ready for my spike. I'll show you the pleasure of being eaten out tomorrow morning. Your valve will probably be a little sore tomorrow, and that's very soothing as well as pleasurable."

"Sore?" Drift's vocalizer spat static as Ratchet caressed his anterior node with a fingertip before gently pinching it between two fingers. The swordsmecha couldn't help but reflexively ground down on his mate's thigh. He had to do something to relieve the pressure steadily building.

"You're okay. That's your anterior node. You'll become well aquatinted with it as time goes on. And yes, sore. It's a normal reaction for a valve that's never been used before. Your calipers will need time to reset after first use," red fingers slowed on his node, caressing and pinching alternatively, appreciating the twitches he wrung from the mecha above him. "And now you're ready. When you're ready, you can mount my spike. You may go as slowly as you wish, but you may not stop until you are flush with me. Do you understand?"

Drift nodded, scooting up until he was hovering above the thick spike, and braced his hands on Ratchet's middle for support.

"Good, you're doing so well. Lean into me, tell me if you need to slow down. Once you're settled we'll have a few moments to rest and let you get accustomed to the feeling, okay?" Ratchet's hands settled on white slender hips, thumbs making gentle circles on his belly. Drift nodded again, pleasure curling through him at the emotions running between them.

Ever so slowly, Ratchet's spike pushed though the soft mesh folds of Drift's valve. The massive amounts of lubricant was no longer embarrassing - just warm and pleasurable. In the days since their conversation, both had been wrapped up in their duties and hadn't been able to make love. So Drift's valve was as tight as it got, and that was plenty tight enough to make the medic's thick spike need a hefty push to settle the head snugly into him.

Ratchet's optics shone as he breeched where Drift's valve seal would have been, fingers tightening on his hips, holding him steady. Drift purred quietly, bending over the mecha beneath him, rubbing his forehelm to the medic's chevron. Ratchet groaned, offlining his optics for just a moment as his spike throbbed inside the tight wet valve.

"I love you so much," Drift whispered, straightening his back and sinking inch by inch onto the beautiful spike. "Thank you for taking such amazing care of me."

"The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for giving me your trust."

When Drift's hips met Ratchet's, both lovers took a moment to study each other, silently acknowledging the emotion between them.

And then they moved together in a dance as old as their kind. A thrust of red hips was met and reciprocated by white hips, grinding and rising over and over. They maintained optic contact until Drift could feel the tightening in his belly, and Ratchet's fingers tightened around his lover's hips, encouraging him to go a bit faster.

When sensitive fingers gently rubbed a circle around his exposed node, Drift broke optic contact and threw his helm back yet again, screaming Ratchet's designation for all to hear as overload crested over him. Beneath the elegant mech, Ratchet's venting ceased as he took in the picture of his chosen mate in rapture, silhouetted against the enormous moon.

Drift shuddered and cried out in rhythm with his valve's contractions, his pleasure stretching on and on with his mate's hand on his node. When he finally returned to his frame, he rolled his neck and looked to his mate beneath him.

"You haven't overloaded yet?"

"Not yet. I wanted to enjoy the moment. You are truly a stunning vision." And he wanted to get as high quality of video as he could manage. This would fuel a thousand years worth of lonely nights.

"How can I help you overload? Teach me, lover," Drift requested, arching his back slightly before remembering that a virgin wouldn't be so wonton.

"Just hold on to me," Ratchet sat up and leaned his back against the berth wall, drawing his mate into his lap properly. "Ride me."

Drift nodded, pressing his helm to Ratchet's, bouncing enthusiastically on that spike he loved so much. Ratchet entwined their hands on the berth's surface, his venting coming hot and hard. It wouldn't take much to push him over the edge.

"Will you show me how to suck your spike in your office next?" Drift whispered, playing off one of Ratchet's dirtiest fantasies - one that the medic had never allowed to actually happen.

Watching his mate overload into his valve was the best thing since being fixed in his clinic. Helm tipped up, mouthplates open, Drift's name on his lips. And the searing hot transfluid in his valve wasn't half bad either, even if the quantity was intense. Drift hadn't been so full of transfluid in his entire life. Ratchet shook and cried out, caught in the throes of a multiple overload. Drift whispered to him, soothing the medic and rocking with him slightly. His middle bulged a little with spike and transfluid, the perfect picture.

As Ratchet slowly came down from his high, Drift took the time to kiss his mate senseless.

"You really went above and beyond, lover. I can't believe you did all this for me. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, except for the time you fixed me up at the clinic."

"Well, I didn't do it all for you. I got a little something out of it," Ratchet pulled his softening spike out of the valve, chuckling at the amount of transfluid that rushed out after him. "Let's order in some fancy energon and fire up the vid screen out on the balcony. I'm sure your valve could use the heat of the solvent again."

"What about emptying my tank of all this transfluid? It's not going to empty itself." Drift let his hands caress the small bump.

"How in the pit could you, a virgin, know anything about emptying your tank of transfluid?"

Ratchet rolled of the berth laughing as Drift growled and took a swipe at him. There was no way his mate was going to leave him with an aching hot belly full of fluid, right? He slid a finger into his valve, trying to encourage the stuck fluid to drain. Dammit to pit, Ratchet knew how to do this much better than he did.

"Hello, Sambicu? Yes, it's CMO Ratchet in the penthouse. We would like your finest effervescent energon delivered to the suite. Drift, would you like anything?" Drift's obscenities didn't include any orders, so Ratchet returned to the call, "And one order of gold and cadmium truffles, please. Thank you."

"Please, Ratch, I can't stand this feeling. It makes me feel so dirty!" Drift whined, spread thighs dripping lubricant and some transfluid onto the berth.

"I'm sorry, lover, but there's nothing dirty about my fluid in your tank. You'd best get used to it. It's going to be there much more often now. How else am I supposed to get you comfortable with the idea before I put a newspark in your chamber?" Ratchet laughed at the stunned picture his mate made, spread legs and mouth open in shock. "Yes, you'll have to get used to it soon, love. A newspark is going to need a full tank of transfluid all the time. You will both crave the minerals and metals."

Stunned silence reigned over the room for a few seconds.

"Ratchet. You really mean it?" Drift's optics shone with emotion, glossy and wide open. All complaints gone.

"Yes, I do. Not tonight. Maybe not for a long while, but I want your frame prepped for it. I'm ready to give you your desires. I'll accept a teaching position at the Iacon hospital when we're ready."

Drift opened his mouth, but no noise came out. He took several deep vents, staring almost challengingly into his optics. When his mouth opened again, static bleated out, followed by hysterical laughter as he fell backwards onto the berth and rocked with joy and laughter. 


End file.
